he wore the jacket of the shadows,

creeping like shyness

and with the eyes of a shadow,

the darkness apparently

had betrayed the police,

because they didn't know

what slithered in the

unsuspecting roads,

lonely, staring at the stars

But a bank, lay there

resting on the friendly

mattress of concrete

and by the numeric security

of cunning combinations,

expected no grim visit

But

that being,

the very architecture of tact,

knew exactly what to do...

he conspired with the night,

so did his thoughts

The sirens were still asleep,

never did they know

that night was the horse,

that was soon to invade

this Troy of security

and without a gunshot,

the safe was opened

and all the cops were dead.

                                                     By Kakraba Afful